


Emergency Action Plan

by OnlySlightlyObsessed1



Series: Occupational Hazards [7]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5k to 15k, Alternate Universe, Episode: s02e15 Journey to Babel, Episode: s2e10 Journey to Babel, Established Relationship, F/M, Leonard McCoy Bingo, M/M, McCoy's POV, Multi, POV Third Person, Prompt: Do or Die, ao3 suggest the tag, but on my netflix its episode 10 so im not sure what to make of that, episode rewrite, mentions handwave-y sci fi surgery and blood donation, no need to have seen the episode, this story can be read independently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/pseuds/OnlySlightlyObsessed1
Summary: Yes, McCoy wanted to meet Spock’s parents, but this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.(A prequel to Confined Spaces. This story can be read without reading the previous parts of the series.)
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Occupational Hazards [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254290
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64
Collections: Leonard McCoy Bingo





	Emergency Action Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to Confined Spaces and everything after it, but you don’t need to have read those to understand this, and you don’t need to read this to understand Confined Spaces. (see end notes or series notes for more details)  
> Alternate Universe to the effect of “what if starfleet ships were way smaller and kept a much smaller permanent crew?”
> 
> I did my best with “do or die” as a prompt, I’m not an action writer 😅 so I hope my remix of this episode plot is acceptable

“Was it a long trip from Vulcan?” McCoy asked, leaning slightly to see around Spock as they walked to nicer of the Starbase’s four crew mess halls.

“It was not,” Ambassador Sarek replied. “I suppose you will make the trip yourselves in time. Spock tells us you plan to marry.”

McCoy blinked. Amanda, the Ambassador’s wife, was looking reprovingly at her husband, it was certainly quite a statement to spring on them out of the blue, but it might not have been so strange among Vulcans. Spock didn’t react at all. McCoy wasn’t sure when since meeting them in the docking ring Spock had had a chance to discuss their relationship, but he shot a reproving glance of his own at Spock. Some kind of heads up would have been appreciated.

“Yes, we’ve talked about it,” he said, “but I’d like to do it right. There’s some traditions humans and Vulcans have in common, I’m led to believe, meeting each other’s parents, for example.”

“Ambassador Sarek and his wife are my parents, Doctor,” Spock said, calmly, as if that were a reasonable thing to mention a full hour after introducing them. Amanda looked as though she was suppressing a laugh, Sarek’s face was as expressionless as ever.

His own, “I see,” came out much colder than he’d meant it to, and Spock’s expression shifted slightly to include some mild apprehension, which was appropriate, because there was no way McCoy was going to let that slide. Amanda’s smile grew and she looked away.

Lunch was conducted in silence.

“My wife and I will retire to our quarters now.”

McCoy had never been so grateful for a meal to end in his life. He copied Sarek and stood. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir, ma’am.”

Sarek looked at him, and then at Spock, and said nothing. He raised his hand in a salute and Amanda smiled at both of them before they left together. McCoy piled all their trays except for Spock’s and took them to the recycler. He could hear Spock following him.

The corridor was empty when they emerged from the mess hall. McCoy continued not speaking because he could tell it was making Spock uncomfortable and he thought that was deserved.

“Leonard,” Spock said finally when they were approaching the turbolift. “I have additional news for you.”

“Do you now.” McCoy wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

“I will soon be promoted to Lieutenant.”

No, he hadn’t wanted to hear it, because good news made it difficult to say irritated. He sighed and raised his fingers to offer Spock a kiss. “That’s wonderful.”

Spock stood straighter, pleased, but when their fingers met, McCoy sensed there was more to the story. “What are you not telling me now?”

A moment of silence only made McCoy more suspicious. Spock pulled his hand away and tucked it behind his back. “Captain Pike would like to meet with you.”

—

The worst part about the automatic doors was that they wouldn’t slam. Spock could just follow him right into his office even after everything he’d tried to get away with that day. Not introducing his parents, for one, unilaterally deciding they were engaged, for two, trying to win McCoy back with the news of his impending promotion, for three, and now _this little stunt_ —

“Leonard,” Spock said, and McCoy kind of hated how much his resolve failed just to hear Spock say his name. “We are, by approximation if nothing else, betrothed —”

“Approximation! Do you want to marry me or not?”

“I do.”

“Then we’re engaged.”

“Then as we are formally engaged, and your presence has been specifically requested through all the proper channels, the last-minute nature of the request notwithstanding, your reluctance is illogical.”

It was enough to make him angry again.

“Don’t tell me it’s illogical! I don’t know the first thing about playing diplomat, and I only just met your parents two hours ago, how can you expect me to run off for three days just to be a part of some kind of entourage—”

“You will not be required to do any diplomacy, as our purpose on this trip is merely an effort to acquiesce to the Hanean’s culture. I assure you, there is no need to worry about any awkwardness with my parents, this is not a social request, you need not interact with them at all if you _truly_ do not wish it. I would not ask it of you if either of my siblings were available, though it is perhaps fortunate for the Federation’s diplomatic aims that they are not, as to my knowledge neither of my siblings plan to marry in the near future.” Spock’s hands were folded behind his back, and despite the circumstances he looked entirely presentable, which didn’t improve McCoy’s mood, although he had refrained from correcting McCoy’s wild underestimation of how many hours it had been since he met Spock’s parents, and that wasn’t nothing.

“I’m the head of Medical! We’ll be out of contact, what if they need me here?”

“Your staff are perfectly capable of handling three days in your absence, and the trip has been approved by Starfleet, as I mentioned. Consider, if you will, the far greater risk we would face out of com range on the ship with no medical personnel.”

That, was a low blow. Spock’s face was impassive and McCoy wanted to yell at him some more, but he’d made enough of a scene storming into his office with Spock trailing behind, and Pike was expecting his answer.

“I’ll pack my bag,” he said, and pointedly didn’t watch as Spock left.

“Welcome aboard, Ambassador, Misses Sarek, Doctor McCoy,” Captain Pike said, raising his hand in the Vulcan salute McCoy still couldn’t manage. Spock, rather than standing with McCoy and his parents, was in line with the rest of the crew at the docking port. McCoy tried not to glare at him.

“We appreciate your assistance, Captain,” Sarek said.

“My science officer will show you and your family to your quarters,” Pike said, gesturing to Spock, who stepped forward, and McCoy had to look down and bite his tongue so as not to ruin the artificial formality of the moment by pointing out how ridiculous it all was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pike’s mouth twitch.

Spock led them through the ship to the largest rec room, which had been hastily refitted into guest quarters with a small main room and two bedrooms, although the refresher was one door down the hall.

“These are to be our quarters for the duration of the mission,” Spock said, having lost his deferential Starfleet Lieutenant attitude somewhere along the way, “Father, Mother, if there is anything you require, you may ask me or any crewmember and we will do our best to accommodate you.”

Sarek nodded at him. “We will retire for a time.”

Spock stood at parade rest until the door to their room had closed, then gestured for McCoy to enter their own room.

“You’d better not be thinking of leaving me here alone with your parents the whole time,” McCoy warned him.

“I will have to go on duty,” Spock said.

McCoy turned away from him to survey the room. It was mostly taken up by a double bed and nightstand, with dressers set against the wall and a stand-alone laundry hamper in one corner. His bag was on the bed, waiting to be unpacked, and some of Spock’s things were assembled on top of one of the dressers.

“Yeah,” he said, because he had paused too long, and unzipped his bag to unpack.

Spock still stood there waiting.

“Oh you meant right now.”

“My duty currently is to ensure the comfort of the Ambassador and his family. What can I do to bring you ease?”

His uniforms and scrubs went in one drawer and his civvies in the other. “I’ll be okay, Spock.” Underwear and socks went together in the left small drawer at the top. In the right one he dumped his toiletries and make up bag. Spock was still standing there looking forlorn when he turned around. “Really.”

“Have the events of today damaged our relationship?”

“What?”

Spock said nothing.

“C’mere.” McCoy opened his arms and stepped forward, and to his relief, Spock met him halfway. “We argued our way into getting engaged earlier. I think we’re doing fine for us.”

Still, Spock was silent, and McCoy felt his grip tighten just a bit.

“Are you going to be alright with this? Me and your parents on your ship for three whole days? Four, including today.”

“I am sure your medical expertise will be sufficient to ensure my survival,” Spock muttered into McCoy’s neck.

“On the bright side, when was the last time we got to spend the night together for eight days in a row?”

Finally, Spock pulled back and straightened his uniform.

“Perhaps in the future we will have such opportunities at less of a cost.”

“Cost?”

“Time spent with my parents.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow. Spock leaned in and kissed him just once.

“I will see you in an hour for dinner. My parents will expect that we eat together.”

“Alright.”

McCoy sat across from Amanda at the low table in the main room. It was set with three large bowls of various sizes that had been brought to them by one of the temporary crew assigned to the ship. Apparently, they were eating real food that had been brought aboard on the Starbase. Spock was due any minute.

“Your cooperation with our diplomatic goals is appreciated, Doctor,” Sarek said, and McCoy hoped it wasn’t obvious that he startled, badly. If it was, Sarek made no reaction. Amanda set the last bowl down on the low table and set the tray aside.

McCoy replied, “It’s no problem, I’m happy to help however I can.”

“This trip has caused significant disruption to your normal duties and routine. I do not take that lightly.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you did,” McCoy said. He resisted glancing at the door again, wishing Spock would arrive back so they could eat dinner silently and then he could escape.

Sarek was studying him. If he hadn’t been Vulcan, McCoy would have said the atmosphere felt hostile, but although his experience one on one with Vulcans was limited mostly to Spock, he knew enough to be fairly sure Sarek meant nothing more than genuine curiosity. Amanda’s clear lack of hostility helped in that regard. Unable to think of anything else to do, McCoy studied Sarek in return.

He didn’t know very much about Spock’s family at all. It had been clear there was some distance especially between him and his father, Spock had mentioned disapproval over his career choice, and McCoy had known Spock’s family name held some weight. Still, it was hard to reconcile the few stories of Spock’s childhood that he did know with the people sitting across the table. He had a hard time imagining either the composed and contemplative Ambassador or the calm and perceptive Amanda managing an overstimulated child’s tantrum, or waiting up all night for Spock to come back from one of his too-frequent unauthorized trips into the mountains.

The sound of the door opening preceded Spock’s return from shift.

“Mother, Father.”

Sarek nodded at him and Amanda smiled and returned the greeting. McCoy was focused on Spock’s outstretched fingers. He returned the gesture, aware that Sarek and Amanda were watching them. People did tend to stare at them on the occasions they had leave together, but it usually felt incidental. This felt like a performance, and McCoy didn’t like it.

Dinner began by silent agreement. Bowls were passed around the table counter clockwise. It was not traditionally Vulcan fare aside from the main starch, a ground root vegetable that reminded McCoy of a cross between a sweet potato and a beet. It went well with the cauliflower, peas, and onions that made the main thick stew.

McCoy cleared the table when they finished eating. The recycling unit in the main room was multipurpose, and offered basic cleaning supplies. Sarek retired immediately to his room to meditate and Spock did the same, leaving him and Amanda alone in the main room. It was awkward, but he did his best to ignore it by spending far more time wiping down the table than was really warranted. Amanda settled into the small sofa with a civilian PADD.

McCoy’s PADDs were still in their room, and he didn’t want to interrupt Spock to get them, but it also left him with nothing to do. Poor planning on his part, he figured. It was strange to just stand there, so he escaped down the hall to the restroom to think. He had to spend another two days in transit like this, before the inevitable awkward diplomatic posturing, and another two and a half days in transit back. None of it sounded like his idea of a good time.

The standard issue mirror over the sink reflected him in a slightly blueish light. He felt out of place on the ship out of uniform, but he wasn’t on active duty unless there was an emergency, which there shouldn’t be. Better to spend a few awkward days with his future in-laws than to work through a crisis, he reminded himself.

Amanda was already looking towards the door by the time he entered. Her gaze kept him trapped there, standing awkwardly, frozen, as the door closed behind him and she put her PADD down.

“Would you sit with me, Doctor?”

He walked to the couch obediently and sat down, looking back at her to find her still watching him, and panicked slightly because he didn’t have anything to say. “Good evening, Misses Sarek. What have you been reading?”

Amanda’s lips pursed in a very Vulcan not-smile. She said, “We don’t have to make small talk.”

McCoy hesitated. What else were they supposed to talk about?

“I’d quite like to get to know you,” she continued, “Spock’s never been one to introduce us to his friends. It’s quite an honor.”

“Yes I—I am honored, I—”

“You misunderstand.” This was said very kindly, which McCoy was grateful for, because the evening was awkward enough. “It is an honor to be introduced to _you_.”

“Oh I don’t think so,” McCoy said hurriedly, embarrassed to feel himself blushing. “Spock just . . .”

“Couldn’t refuse his father’s request?” Amanda was still not-smiling. “He easily could have. They haven’t spoken since Spock left for the academy. And they still haven’t acknowledged that they’re relations rather than fellow officers this whole trip.”

McCoy bit back a smile of his own. It was true.

She must have been able to tell he was softening. “So yes, it is an honor, Doctor.”

“This wasn’t how I pictured it, but, I am very pleased to meet you both,” McCoy admitted. He didn’t know how many people Spock had or hadn’t introduced to his parents, but given how typically private he was, McCoy understood the gravity of the gesture. He still thought Spock could have given him a heads up about it, but that something they could deal with later.

“Sarek and I pleased to meet you as well.”

“Could I ask you,” McCoy began on impulse, “what should I expect from this? I’m not usually brought along on diplomatic missions.”

“Do you have extended family on Earth?” Amanda asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you been to any weddings or funerals or reunions where you don’t know anyone?”

He nodded.

“Quite a bit like that, I imagine. These sorts of things tend to be, although the details vary planet to planet.”

“Thank you.”

Silence stretched over a moment. Amanda appeared to be studying him. He met her eyes. “You know Doctor, I very rarely see my son.”

“I—yes.”

“He deigns to send me communications every other month. You feature quite heavily, although Spock made no mention of your relationship until we were in the turbolift heading to the sickbay.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“How long have the two of you been involved?”

“Almost two years”

She was silent for such a long moment he grew uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, although McCoy could read the deliberation clearly on her face. Whatever it was, she thought it important.

“If you ever find yourself in need of advice or information that Spock or the Vulcan Medical Authority are reluctant to discuss, I hope you’ll consider me a resource.” Amanda concluded her statement with a further several seconds of deliberate eye contact while McCoy waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you.”

Amanda smiled and the moment, whatever it was, was over. “Please,” she said, “I would like to get to know you. Spock writes from a very particular perspective.”

He tried to evade but she was not to be dissuaded. Eventually, McCoy found himself telling her in great detail about his xenomedical internship on Capella Four and the efforts they had made to exchange medical techniques.

“ . . . considerable resistance because culturally, the value placed on—” he broke off when he noticed Spock standing in the doorway to their bedroom. “Planning to join us?”

Spock clearly hesitated. McCoy glanced at Amanda who was gazing hopefully in Spock’s direction. Feeling particularly awkward, McCoy raised his fingers in invitation, suspecting Spock would not refuse him. Luckily for his pride, Spock did move away from the door and sit next to him on the couch, only then brushing his fingertips briefly in greeting. He nodded to his mother. She beamed at them.

“You were saying, Doctor?”

“Oh,” he didn’t quite remember where he had left off and couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm with the quiet tension from Spock sitting next to him. “Well they weren’t interested in building any hospitals so when the information exchange was over that was the end of it.”

“You found it a very valuable experience,” Amanda noted.

“Yes,” McCoy said, resisting the urge to look over at Spock, feeling trapped between the two of them. He’d spent the whole evening feeling trapped between Spock and his parents, and suddenly, he was tired of it. “Misses Sarek, I know about the rigorous training of the Vulcan youth, but tell me, did Spock ever run and play like the human children, even in secret?”

Amanda’s expression became positively mischievous, and he saw her gaze slip past him to Spock. McCoy looked over to him as well and caught Spock nodding very slightly at his mother, in answer to something McCoy had missed.

“Well, he, he did have a pet sehlat he was very fond of.”

“Sehlat?”

“It’s sort of a fat teddy bear.”

McCoy gripped Spock’s hand without thinking, grinning widely. This was better than he could have hoped for. “A teddy bear?”

“I-Chaya,” Amanda said.

“A teddy bear.”

“Not precisely, Leonard,” Spock spoke for the first time. “On Vulcan, the teddy bears are alive and they have six-inch fangs.”

McCoy was still chuckling as he bid Amanda goodnight and took himself to bed. Spock had excused himself around the time his mother had brought out the baby pictures. Sarek had emerged from his room for a total of two minutes, only long enough to get a drink of water and watch them giggling over PADDs with a flat expression.

“He’s shy,” Amanda had said, and McCoy hadn’t found out whether she meant it seriously or not because he’d found the comment hysterically funny he’d collapsed into giggles and set Amanda off, and from there they’d gotten into a loop. It felt good to laugh with someone.

Spock was looking very dignified reading his PADD in bed.

“I like your mother,” McCoy told him.

Spock looked up, and McCoy waited for him to disparage either the concept of laughter, baby pictures, or maybe explain the psychology behind human social bonding, but said only, “I’m glad.”

To that piece of unexpected honesty, McCoy had no response. He put his clothes in the laundry and got in bed, throwing half the blankets back on Spock’s side. Spock set his PADD on the floor.

“The jury is still out on my father, I presume.”

McCoy blinked, and then grinned. A joke, and one of his idioms, out of Spock’s mouth. Not in the right tone, nor at the right point in the conversation, but he’d take it. He propped himself up on his elbow to give Spock a kiss. “I’ll update you tomorrow.”

Spock gave him an especially fond look as he settled back into his pillow.

“Computer, lights out.”

The lights in the guest quarters had been set to civilian standard, for some godforsaken reason. It was all well and good for the corridors and workspaces to simulate a day-night cycle but they didn't have to install sunrise in his bedroom. People had invented blackout curtains for a reason. 

McCoy supposed he couldn't entirely blame the light for his inability to sleep in. It was around the time he'd have needed to get up for work anyway and he could hear Spock moving around in the dim room. Getting dressed, it seemed. 

"Computer," he said into his pillow, "what time is it?"

It responded promptly, "It is six thirty four AM ship's time." They must have changed the computer's response script too.

"Good morning," Spock said.

McCoy grumbled into his pillow. He listened to Spock continue getting ready and dozed, startling when Spock's hand rested on his shoulder. The room was slightly brighter than it had been when he'd first woken.

"I'm going to the mess. If your lunch aligns with my break, I will return to share the meal with you."

Too many words. McCoy picked his head up all the way and tried to convince his brain to cooperate. "When?"

"I'll message you," Spock told him, and began to move away. 

"Okay. Good shift." That sounded like the right phrase. Spock gave him one of those almost smiles and disappeared into the main room. McCoy buried his face back in the pillow for a moment and then threw the blankets back and stood up all at once. It was best to just get waking up over and done with all at once. No need to keep dragging it out. The clock said it was quarter till.

When he dressed and returned from the bathroom, he found that breakfast had been delivered on a stasis tray. It was waiting on the low table.

Sarek was awake, seated on his cushion, reading from a PADD.

“Good morning,” McCoy said.

“Good morning,” Sarek replied. “I presume Spock has left for his duties already today?”

“He has.”

“My wife will join us momentarily.”

McCoy nodded. He hadn’t brought a PADD with him, so he sat down in his spot and stared at the table until Amanda arrived.

She was incredibly chipper for so early in the morning. McCoy tried not to stare as she kissed Sarek on the cheek and assembled all her robes in order to sit down. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” McCoy parroted back.

Sarek passed out bowls and Amanda served the kreila and McCoy poured the tea and several minutes later they were eating together in silence that wasn’t exactly companionable, but was at least absent the awkwardness that had pervaded dinner the night before.

“Misses Sarek,” McCoy said, Sarek looked over at him sharply.

“Call me Amanda, please.”

“Amanda, Ambassador—”

“Call him Sarek.”

“Sarek,” McCoy corrected himself again. Sarek had not said anything. “I enjoyed our conversation last night. I was hoping to hear more about your work.

“I have been an ambassador since two years before Spock was born,” Sarek said.

He left it at that. McCoy nodded, prepared to go back to a silent, now slightly more awkward, breakfast. Amanda sighed.

“I work in classroom and curriculum design integrating and accommodating the different needs and strengths in diverse classrooms, especially for space stations, colonies, and outposts.”

“That’s amazing,” McCoy said, and he meant it.

“I met Sarek during research for my doctorate.”

“Amanda was involved in a project in conjunction with the Earth embassy on Vulcan. I was quite fortunate to also be assigned to its development.”

Amanda smiled at him fondly.

“We got along quite well. It was Sarek who encouraged me to stay and pursue an ambitious job posting in Vulcan’s main space port.”

“She was quite qualified for the position, and uniquely undeterred by Vulcan’s cultural differences.”

“I wouldn’t be very good at curriculum design for multicultural classrooms if I was so easily scared away,” Amanda pointed out, rather playfully.

They were telling the story in sync, McCoy realized, not unlike a human couple might. It flowed like they had practiced it many times.

“Integrating culturally appropriate learning material and living oneself immersed in a culture are different skill sets and aptitudes,” Sarek countered. “Few humans choose to live fully among Vulcans.”

“Well I knew plenty of Vulcans, I wasn’t lonely.” Amanda took another piece of kreila and passed the basket to McCoy. “I worked there for a year until I got a position on what at the time was a much more remote outpost connecting an Andorian colony to the main trading route in that system. Sarek and I had just begun seeing each other, I was quite disappointed it wasn’t going to work out.”

“It would have been illogical to terminate an otherwise successful relationship purely because of a temporary physical distance.”

McCoy took a large bite to cover whatever expression he was making. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t want Spock’s parents to see. Long distance was hard. It was really hard. He never once resented Spock’s career, nor wanted to change his own, but it had been miserable to go from seeing each other everyday when they worked together on the station to having to make do with a video message every other afternoon. Sometimes he thought he’d gotten used to it, and then other times he gave himself insomnia thinking of how in a year or two he wouldn’t mind serving on a medical transport ship and how difficult it would be for their relationship to survive that.

“And of your own career, Doctor?” Sarek asked.

McCoy shook himself out of his thoughts. “Call me Leonard.”

They all went their separate ways after breakfast. Amanda and Sarek seemed to enjoy the freedom to explore the ship, but McCoy had spent enough time assigned as temporary crew on Research and Exploration ships to know his way around already. The layout was always the same and he wasn’t bored enough to bother looking through their entertainment options. It would be interesting to see what the selection said about the crew, but it would have been more fun to have Spock there to confirm or deny McCoy’s guesses. He took himself to the sickbay instead.

The mediscanner beeped the familiar beginning sound of a wellness check and McCoy’s heartrate skyrocketed in a moment of alarm and confusion. There weren’t supposed to be any patients! A second later he remembered he wasn’t technically on active duty and the mediscanner would be on entry alert status. It was reacting to him.

It gave him a happy trill, and started a read out of his clean bill of health. McCoy shut it off.

He amused himself for the next hour doing an inventory, cross checking with his mental list of the permanently assigned crew and making note when he thought they could adjust their supply.

When that was done, he entered himself into the computer systems as temporarily available on-call. The mediscanner, a wonderful, life-saving, invention in times of crisis, and the most incredible headache at every other moment, promptly delivered seventeen forms to his computer console for review. McCoy got through five of them before deciding he’d had enough.

Aimless wandering led him to the mess, which was empty. McCoy ordered a smoothie and took it to go, finding a window airlock to stare out of at the passing stars. His irritation from yesterday had faded. Amanda and Sarek were interesting people, and some variety in his routine wasn’t a bad thing. Spock might even join them for lunch. Just then, the ship lurched and pulled his feet right out from under him. He landed hard on his hip and spilled his drink all over his shirt.

The automated voice of the computer over the intercom announced: _“Yellow Alert. All personnel to their stations. Guests return to their quarters. Yellow Alert. All personnel—”_

McCoy calmly pushed himself to his feet and walked back to the guest quarters. Amanda was just inside, taking off her shawl. “Leonard, do you know what’s happening?”

“I don’t,” he admitted, “They’ll let us know what’s happening when they have the time. For now, we’ll all stay put.”

“Sarek and I were on the observation deck,” Amanda said, “I had gone to see if we could take our lunch there instead. Should I call him to stay where he is?”

McCoy took a second look around the room. The doors to both bedrooms were open, and Sarek wasn’t with them. He didn’t frown. “No, it’s best to follow orders. Excuse me, I’m going to change.”

When he came back, Sarek was still absent. Amanda sat stiffly on the couch.

McCoy had spent too long in service to Starfleet to gamble that Sarek had simply opted it was safer to stay put. Or if he had, he would have called.

"Computer, locate Ambassador Sarek and perform wellness check."

"Ambassador Sarek, location:" the computer began, but it was interrupted by itself. "Status: urgent. Commencing emergency medical transport."

Yellow alert be damned, McCoy was out the door running. Amanda followed him.

"Stay inside!" he told her.

"Absolutely not!" she shot back, and nearly over took him as they skid to a stop in front of the turbolift. McCoy didn't have time to argue.

The intercom was buzzing along the corridors and in sickbay when he arrived. McCoy ignored it. Was it really only last night he had been dreading hours of small talk with his future in-laws? 

_"Pike to Ambassador's party, please respond."_

Sarek lay on the biobed, ensconced in the medical scanner. His vital signs were leveling as the mediscanner worked to stabilize him, but to McCoy's surprise it didn't seem to be related to the turbulence. Sarek had had a heart attack.

"This is Amanda, my husband has been injured."

_"Injured?"_

"McCoy here." McCoy stepped to the intercom unit on the wall. "We're in sickbay, the Ambassador needs medical attention. Unrelated to the turbulence, to my current knowledge."

 _"Keep us updated."_ The connection was cut.

"Amanda," McCoy asked, switching the mediscanner off of the automatic triage setting to directed-focus: patient care, "has your husband experienced any previous heart attacks?"

"Heart attacks?" She looked surprised. "No, not since I've known him. He's had a heart attack?"

"It seems that way."

Sarek would be coming to soon, from what McCoy could tell. He wasn't a Vulcanoid specialist, and if they'd been in his sickbay on the Starbase, he would have been calling someone else in to take over right about now. But they weren't in his sickbay, and he did have basic training in all the federation species.

He entered a request for as many scans of Sarek's heart and the immediately surrounding arteries as the mediscanner offered and pulled out a stool. Amanda was already perched on the next biobed over. Ideally, family members would be waiting in a different room, maybe with a receptionist or social worker or nurse who could collect any relevant medical history and relay information as needed. In McCoy's experience, it was easier for everyone. He glanced at Amanda again, quite composed, watching her husband. He must be getting complacent if he was wishing her away. He’d weathered the chaos of field training and came out alright.

The first scan finished and McCoy put history out of his mind. There were no blockages or blood clots as McCoy would have expected. He ordered another scan and got an error message. The mediscanner didn’t like doing too many things at once, and for some reason it hadn't turned over the life support monitor to the biobed. He overrode it with mild irritation and ordered his repeat scan again, pleased to see that the other data was starting to filter in. 

Vulcan physiology made getting a clear picture of the heart almost impossible, but with three different types of simultaneous scans, he could amass enough data for a pretty accurate understanding of what was going on.

Sarek shifted minutely and the sensors indicated his return to consciousness.

"Ambassador? Can you hear me?"

Amanda stood up and took an anxious half step forward. McCoy kept his eyes on the scans. There was something odd going on, but he couldn't yet see what.

Sarek's eyes fluttered open. McCoy stood to inspect him. "Ambassador? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Sarek said, and McCoy was glad to hear he sounded quite normal. Although considering he was Vulcan, that didn’t mean as much as it might have otherwise.

"Ambassador, do you know where you are?"

"In sickbay, presumably. I have had a heart attack?" 

“Yes. Have you had any prior heart problems?”

Amanda was opening her mouth but Sarek said “Yes,” with no hesitation. Amanda snapped her mouth shut and almost recoiled before smoothing her expression into something McCoy couldn’t read. He guessed she had some practice at things like that. 

“What kind?” McCoy prompted Sarek while he looked back at the data the scans had collected.

“This event marks the third attack. The first occurred several months ago on Vulcan, the second just before we embarked on this voyage. My physician prescribed Benjisidrine.”

The name of the drug was familiar, and just then he saw it—a slight irregularity in Sarek’s heart rhythm. “A malfunction in one of the heart valves.”

Sarek nodded and closed his eyes. “That was what was suspected.” 

Of course, it would require major surgery to prove that was the case. Whatever was wrong, clearly the Benjisidrine wasn’t cutting it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“Sarek—” 

McCoy tuned them out to the best of his ability and tried to think. Sarek was stable, but his heart problem wasn’t under control, and while there was a chance he would recover and stay healthy for the remainder of the mission, considering how close together his last two events had been and the fact that the irregularity still showed up on the monitor, McCoy wasn’t willing to bet on it. Worse, if Sarek did have another serious attack, they were wildly under equipped to manage it. McCoy had never done a cryogenic open-heart procedure on a live patient before, and these were far from ideal circumstances to put his practice in simulations to the test. The ship rocked again suddenly, and the lights flickered. _Extremely_ far from ideal circumstances. 

They had to turn back for the Starbase. 

He went for the intercom. “McCoy to Bridge.”

No one responded, and the ship rocked again. That did not bode well. Sarek and Amanda had stopped talking and were watching him anxiously, or rather, Amanda was watching him anxiously and Sarek was holding her hand and keeping his eyes shut. McCoy nodded to her and stepped out into the hallway and spoke into the intercom there. “McCoy to Bridge.”

 _“Bridge,”_ someone responded, _“sit tight.”_

“I have an update on the Ambassador’s condition,” McCoy said.

 _“It can wait,”_ whoever it was said. They sounded distracted, and there was noise in the background.

“He needs to be taken back to the Starbase.”

_“What?”_

“Immediately.”

 _“You’ll—”_ the computer cut them off. “Doctor McCoy to sickbay.”

McCoy was back inside as fast as the doors would open. The biobed alarm was screeching, Amanda was clinging to Sarek’s hand, and Sarek himself was having another heart attack. At times like this it felt like his conscious mind went blank. He pulled Amanda away from Sarek. Checked that the mediscanner’s readout matched the biobed. Watched Sarek’s heart rhythm fail to respond to the first and second stimuli. Pre-authorized the increase in intensity. Watched again as the third stimulus seemed to have an effect. The mediscanner was loading an analysis to decide whether to keep Sarek on a heart rhythm monitor, which McCoy overrode to turn on manually. The surgery might not wait for them to get back to the Starbase. Anxiety made his stomach turn over for a moment before he reigned himself in. 

“Amanda, your husband needs a cryogenic open-heart procedure to determine the extent of the heart malfunction and correct it. I suspect the Benjisidrine hasn’t been as effective as his prescribing physician expected.” As he said it, he was trying to think, what was available in the ship’s blood bank? Could he perform the procedure with just the mediscanner? Was the ship going to get blown to bits before they even got the chance?

“Surgery. What are the risks?”

McCoy couldn’t even begin to list them all. In an ideal situation, they could have sat down and had a conversation, but now, he needed to plan for all contingencies. “Considerable, but it’s the best option to save his life. For now, the mediscanner is stabilizing him. I’m going to talk to the Captain, stay here with your husband, and follow the mediscanners instructions.” 

But before she could respond the doors slid open and Pike entered with Spock hot on his heels. “Doctor McCoy, report.”

“Ambassador Sarek is in serious condition, sir. He needs treatment on a Starbase sir."

"What happened?"

"Medical confidentiality—"

Amanda interrupted him. "The Doctor said he's having heart attacks and that he will require surgery."

"We may be unable to return in a timely manner," Spock said. "The ship is under attack."

"How long do we have?" Captain Pike asked.

"Impossible to say, the mediscanner is doing its job but there's no way to predict when a large-scale heart failure could occur again. I can't fully diagnose the problem because—"

"Vulcan anatomy makes it impossible without a procedure."

For just this instance McCoy would forgive Spock interrupting him.

"If we don't make it back, can you perform it onboard?"

"I'm unqualified," McCoy tried to protest but Pike cut him off. 

"We're taking damage and involved in evasive actions. My priority has to be keeping the ship safe or we won’t be going anywhere. Can you perform the procedure."

McCoy struggled to find the right words. " _No!_ I have the theoretical background but I'm not practiced and besides that the ship doesn't have nearly enough blood to support this kind of procedure! —" he happened to glance at Sarek's chart and felt yet another rock drop into his stomach. "In fact, I should call ahead to let sickbay know or they might not have enough either. Sarek's blood type is rare."

"I am also T-negative, Doctor, perhaps I could—"

"Even you couldn't give that much blood, Spock. It would kill you! And you're still an imperfect match—unless there's filtration capabilities . . ." He got distracted checking the mediscanner to see, pleasantly surprised to see it did have the capacity to filter blood transfusions.

"Find a work around," Pike ordered. "We'll do our best on the bridge. Spock, stay here and assist."

McCoy tried to protest again—that Spock had no medical training and happened to be Sarek's _son_ —but Pike was gone.

"Doctor."

McCoy looked up from the console to see the PADD Spock was handing him. 

"A Rigelian drug that has been used to increase blood production. I could serve as a donor." 

Skimming over the research, McCoy's anxiety grew. "Let's not get hasty. And this is—” experimental and in Rigelian patients and a bad idea in so many different ways McCoy couldn’t list them.

The ship shuddered around them. It had been alarmingly rocky, and the disturbance was only increasing. The intercom came to life just as the mediscanner began to speak. McCoy tuned out the intercom in time to hear "Emergency medical transport commencing," and he turned to see Captain Pike materializing on one of the biobeds, bleeding.

Could the day get any worse.

"I am needed on the bridge," Spock was saying. The damn ship rocked again. 

Practice and instinct combined so that McCoy could dodge Pike suddenly leaning over and throwing up over the side of the biobed while still reading the information rapidly populating the charts above his head. Concussion, thankfully not too severe, mild bruising, probably from a bad fall— “What happened?”

Pike was clearly too disoriented to answer, and still heaving. McCoy sent silent thanks out to the universe that the sickbay was tiny, which made it easy to get his hands on a cranial stabilizer quickly.

Unfortunately, Pike fought him as he tried to get the captain to lay down and stay still. “The ship!” he insisted.

“She’s fine,” McCoy tried to reassure him, but again he heard a loud rumbling noise, far off phaser fire. Pike groaned as McCoy finally managed to get the cranial stabilizer in place. “Stay still now.”

It was bad news for Pike to be incapacitated, and McCoy was even more worried about what it meant for the ship’s status. Sickbay had its own backup gravity systems and inertial dampeners, but Pike’s head wound and bruising would indicate that the rest of the ship wasn’t nearly as stable. Which meant they probably weren’t making headway back to the Starbase. He stared at the puddle of sick on the floor and elected to simply throw some absorbent powder over it and deal with it later. 

Sarek, by some miracle, was still stable. 

Wasn’t this supposed to have been a simple diplomatic mission?

Amanda was watching him. McCoy took a breath and hoped he looked somewhat professional and composed. “Your husband’s condition is holding steady.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’ll be in the office if anything changes.”

She nodded. 

The intercom light was blinking on the office desk. “McCoy here.”

 _“What is the Captain’s status?”_

“He has a concussion. He’ll be fine.”

_“When can he return to the bridge?”_

McCoy frowned. “Ideally, I’d keep him overnight for observation, just in case. But if it’s a crisis--”

 _“It’s a crisis,”_ whoever was in charge of communications said abruptly. 

Wasn’t that comforting. “I’ll let you know. He needs at least another fifteen minutes, then I’ll reassess.”

The slightest static marked the connection transferring and then Number One’s voice came through. _“Doctor, you should prepare yourself and your sickbay for the eventuality that we do not make it back to a Starbase in a timely manner.”_

“Very well,” he said. 

_“Number One out.”_

There was nothing else to do then, except to pull up that research paper on the Rigelian stimulant and see how he might be able to adapt it.

Six hours. McCoy had six hours before everything went to hell. Pike had fought with him about staying in sickbay for at least an hour of observation and treatment, despite his obvious headache and discomfort. Three other crewmembers had cycled through with bumps and bruises from turbulence and minor burns from attempts to fix broken systems. He had pieced together a plan for surgery, if it came to that, which he still fervently hoped it wouldn’t, and then for the last hour, sat with Amanda and foolishly began to think that perhaps the lack of turbulence meant they had gotten through the fight. 

They had not. 

The ship shook and listed like crazy, sending both him and Amanda stumbling out of their chairs into the wall. The biobed began to scream about power fluctuations. McCoy clung to a hand-hold and yelled at the computer to override a troubleshooting analysis and get his patient on unconditional priority. The ship continued to shake. Amanda was closer to the biobed and got back to her original position first. 

“Doctor, something’s wrong!”

McCoy did his best not to lose his footing. She was right. The turbulence had disturbed Sarek’s position on the biobed, which reduced the efficacy of the life support, but what was worse, the power fluctuation had somehow caused a restart of some system—McCoy did not bother looking closely enough to figure out which, or why—with the result that the heart rhythm monitor had gotten off time or stopped, just for a moment. Sarek’s heart fluttered, irregular, even as the monitor continued trying to correct it. They couldn’t put off surgery any longer. 

With Amanda’s help, he pulled Sarek back all the way onto the biobed. “I’m going to get Spock.”

The comm system seemed to be down, so McCoy left Amanda with Sarek and ordered the mediscanner to prep him for surgery while he booked it to the bridge. 

The bridge was tightly controlled chaos. Pike sat in the command chair holding three PADDs and saying something about pursuit curves. The ensign at the helm was fiercely concentrated while navigation’s fingers flew across buttons. Spock, at his station, was in conversation with communications. 

A ship was approaching on the viewscreen.

“Brace yourselves!” 

McCoy grabbed one of the railings as a ball of light obscured the rest of the image and the ship shook. 

“Spock, I need you in sickbay now.”

Number One was working in eerily perfect harmony with two other officers to his left. She said, “I’ll relieve you.”

“Negative, at this moment in the battle—" More turbulence sent people stumbling while Pike kept yelling about a maneuver and the phasers.

McCoy had to yell to be heard as well. “Either we do the surgery now or he dies!” It felt like a very dramatic pronouncement, one more suited to a soap opera than his real life, but the chaos didn’t pause for dramatic effect. 

“Get out of here, Spock!” Pike said, and then Navigation began swearing and the ship lurched again. 

He explained his plan to Spock as they hurried through the corridors, skipping the turbolift in favor of the ladder just in case it stalled. As the ship remained engaged in active combat, it was all too likely. Spock obviously wanted to ask questions, but there wasn't any time.

In sickbay Sarek was halfway prepared. The biobed was enclosed in a sterilization field and Amanda had piled the things he needed for the blood transfusion on a second biobed. 

“Sit down,” McCoy told Spock, and when he did so, jabbed the hypospray he had prepared into Spock’s neck. McCoy gestured for him to lay down and began assembling the filtration to go from Spock to Sarek, hoping against hope that their plan would work and whatever was trying to shoot the ship out of warp would leave them all the hell alone. 

“Doctor.”

Amanda was standing by Sarek’s bed. The mediscanner was fitting the surgical sleeve over Sarek’s torso. Five minutes, and the lives of his fiancé and his future father in law would be in his hands. 

“If you need to step out for the procedure, the office is still protected by the extra inertial dampening.”

She took a step forward. “No, I’d like to help however I can.”

For a moment they held eye contact. McCoy knew he needed to refuse her. She needed to wait somewhere else where she wouldn’t have to see her husband and son under his knife. But the ship was being attacked and his patient could die and he’d never done this kind of operation with these kinds of stakes and what he really needed was a real hospital, a sufficient blood bank, and a full surgical team: a second surgeon, anesthesiologist, surgical nursing staff—and while he was at it, why not wish for someone else to take his spot in the procedure as well? 

He needed any help she could offer. 

“There are scrubs in that closet.”

—

The biobed’s readouts were holding steady, as they had been for the past fifteen minutes, and the monitors indicated that Sarek was coming to. McCoy’s fingers itched to grab a hypospray or three just in case, although by all measures Sarek was fine. 

“Sarek?” Amanda leaned closer to him. A few seconds later, his eyelashes fluttered. From his own biobed, Spock was leaned up on his elbow, craning his neck to watch as well. In two minutes and thirty seconds he needed to drink another 500 milliliters of rehydration fluid for the anemia. “Sarek, —" she continued softly in Vulcan. McCoy politely tuned her out to avoid even the possibility of overhearing any words he might know. Two minutes now. He kept one eye on the clock. 

“How are you feeling, Ambassador? Any pain?”

Sarek’s eyes were only open a sliver and McCoy was about to turn on the translator and ask his question again when Sarek shook his head. Good. That was good. “Ambassador, I performed a cryogenic open-heart procedure to repair a damaged heart valve.”

“Yes,” Sarek whispered.

“It went well, but you will need to remain in sickbay for several days. The recovery period may take several months. Is there anything you need right now?”

His response was unintelligible.

“Water,” Amanda translated.

McCoy didn’t want him drinking very much, the IV would keep him hydrated and manage the pain medication. He gave her a water pouch anyway. “One sip at a time. Take at least ten seconds between sips.”

She nodded and lifted the straw to Sarek’s mouth. McCoy watched the first time, and then turned his attention to Spock. “You too. Drink this slowly.”

Spock obeyed. McCoy stared at the skin on the inside of his wrist and the color of his face. Too pale, washed out. He wanted to reach out and kiss Spock with his fingers, smooth his hair, touch just for the sake of touching, but he knew if he did, he’d lose his professional distance and he just couldn’t afford that right then. He pulled himself away.

His job wasn’t even close to being done. 

Captain Pike dropped by during dinner. He looked exhausted, and somehow had managed to get himself covered in dust. McCoy scanned him with a tricorder on principle, but aside from the obvious, he was in good shape.

“I just came to check on Ambassador Sarek and Commander Spock, Doctor.”

“They’re as well as can be expected,” McCoy said.

“I will return to duty at my next shift, Captain,” Spock piped up.

“You will not!” McCoy caught Pike trying not to laugh as he whirled around to point at Spock. “You have several _pints_ of blood to replenish and you will go back on duty when I clear you and not a second sooner.”

“No one has used pints as an official standard of measurement in—”

“Ambassador,” Pike said, turning away. Spock cut himself off in deference to Pike’s higher rank, and McCoy took it as his win. “We’re engaged in repairs at the moment, our arrival at Hanea will be delayed. I do apologize.”

“As I am not yet fit for diplomatic service, I cannot hold you in contempt for this. Neither would I in any case. It is no fault of yours that the Orions chose to target this vessel.”

Pike stepped further within the boundaries of the privacy curtain, and McCoy happily ignored their further conversation in favor of turning back to his supply cupboard. No night shift meant no night nurse meant if anyone needed anything he was going to have to wake up and get it. McCoy took extra blankets from the cupboard and set them on the closest bed to Sarek’s, where he presumed Amanda would want to sleep. She smiled at him from her chair next to Sarek’s bed. Pike was still talking politics.

Usually after a day like this one, McCoy would pass out for twelve hours, and no one would wake him for love or money. He put the pillow on top of the blankets.

Spock was watching him when he turned around. McCoy tried to smile at him. Spock’s expression was soft, but he did not smile back, taking yet another cup of rehydration fluid without complaint. McCoy trusted him to drink it as he dragged himself to the other closet to set out anything else they might need during the night: more water, vitamin hypos, a spare disinfectant field for Sarek’s surgery site, bedpans, extra blankets, socks. Sarek’s bedside table still had a tray of approved post-surgery food items if he felt like eating anything more during the night. McCoy poked at the synthesizer until it came up with more multicolored Vulcan vegetable squares for Spock.

He sank into the swivel chair next to Spock’s bed when he was done. Spock offered him a square. McCoy was tired and hungry enough to eat it, although it tasted distinctly synthesized.

Pike stepped out from the curtain. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Not a problem,” McCoy said automatically.

That earned him a look, like Pike could tell how tired he was. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Get some sleep.”

“You as well, Captain.”

Pike nodded, and the door swished shut behind him.

McCoy watched Spock eat another square before turning to survey the room. He couldn’t think of anything left to do. Finally, he let himself settle. When Spock reached out, McCoy took his hand.

The sounds of sickbay faded into a steady rhythmic background. The longer McCoy sat there the more he began to relax. Spock’s thumb rubbed over the back of his hand, a gentle, intimate gesture that soothed him. Exhaustion was creeping in slowly from all sides. Blinking felt like a herculean task. He nearly startled when Spock took his hand away to brush McCoy’s hair off his forehead.

“You need sleep, Leonard.”

“I know.”

He still had so much to worry about. He didn’t know whether they were still planning to go to Hanea after the repairs finished. He didn’t know how long Sarek would need to be under observation. He didn’t know what Starfleet medical was going to say when they heard about him performing emergency surgery on his father in law and using experimental Rigellian drugs on his partner to make him a living blood bank. Those were tomorrow’s problems. For now, it was comfortable to just sit, leaning against Spock’s bed. McCoy closed his eyes.

“If you do not move now, you will fall asleep here,” Spock said.

“Hmmm.”

“You will be uncomfortable when you wake.”

“Just five more minutes,” McCoy said. He heard Spock sighed and the ambient light dimmed with the sound of the curtain being drawn. He waited for Spock to say something more, but as he did not, McCoy felt himself slipping further into sleep. He was almost there when Spock’s hand on his shoulder insistently brought him to wakefulness.

“Take yourself to bed, Leonard, please.”

McCoy tried to say something just to be contrary, but he was asleep on his feet as he dragged himself to standing long enough to escape the privacy curtain and crash onto the next biobed. His shoes were still on, but he didn’t care. He did his very best to say good night out loud, and he thought it might have worked because the last thing he heard before he really drifted off was Spock’s quiet voice.

“Sleep well."

**Author's Note:**

> This series is in posting order, which means this story is #7
> 
> In chronological order, the stories are arranged as follows:  
> Emergency Action Plan (stands alone)  
> [time skip]  
> Confined Spaces (stands alone)  
> Adequately Supportive Workplaces Environments (follows from CS)  
> Recording and Reporting Occupational Injury and Illness (chronologically follows ASWE)  
> Mergers and Acquisitions (follows RROII)
> 
> Chronologically following Confined Spaces--Mergers and Acquisitions, independent of that arc and each other  
> Forms in Triplicate (stands alone, can be read without context)  
> Family Medical Leave (makes more sense when read after Mergers and Acquisitions)


End file.
